


Missing

by QuietlyImplode



Series: Rescue Me [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Panic Attack, Worried Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyImplode/pseuds/QuietlyImplode
Summary: Clint’s having a tough time finding Natasha.—What if she’s not there?What if, after all of this; she’s done something stupid or..He stops in his tracks. Unable to move. She wouldn’t, things aren’t that bad. They’re not like the last time.. Right? He hasn’t been paying close enough attention, hasn’t asked the hard questions.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Rescue Me [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984783
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Missing

Clint’s stressed.

He hasn’t seen or heard from her all day. She won’t let him in her room, Friday’s not saying anything.

The night before was fucked, Natasha had been overwhelmed, tired and in pain and it had resulted in a panic attack in front of everyone. The one time he’d convinced her to come and have dinner as a team, had quickly deteriorated into knives being thrown, threatening words and whole lot of tears (and not just Natashas).

Clint had managed to talk her down, get her calm and bring her to her room where she’d passed out on top of him.

He’d left the room in the morning to get them breakfast and coffee (mostly coffee, he needed to function somehow) and now, she’s not letting him back in.  
He decides to leave her be. Maybe she’s embarrassed, maybe just wants to sleep it off; whatever it is; she doesn’t want to be disturbed and he respects that. And, he guess that if she was in any danger, surely Friday would say something.

It’s just.

He’s worried.

Again.

Still?

Who even knows.

It hits dinner time a full day after the attack and everyone’s asking after her. He’s torn between respecting her privacy and full on breaking down.

Steve has knocked on her door.

Tony’s tried.

She’s not answering.

Friday’s still not talking.

He wants to trust her, he does, but he doesn’t.

He tries once more.

Asks Friday once more - gets the same automated response of “She’s requested that no-one disturb her.”  
And so, heads to his own room, to bed just to lie awake and stress even more.  
.  
The next morning he goes for a run, trying to work it out. He does an extra five miles to make his legs go to jelly and push all thoughts from his brain, so all he can think is ‘breathe’.

He showers, changes and head straight to her room.  
“Natasha, open the door.”

No response.

“Natasha, if you don’t open the door, I’m coming in anyway.” He tries to say it as gently as possible but his frustration is leaking out of every word.

Nothing.

“Friday. Open the door. And don’t give me that bullshit of privacy, otherwise Tony is going to take you apart.”

The door still doesn’t open.

Fuck this, he thinks. Opening the panel on the side, he feels out the wires and pulls them out. He’s in the middle of stripping the wires back in order to reconnect them to open the door, when Tony appears.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Have you seen Natasha? She hasn’t left since..” he stops.

“Friday open the door.”

“Sir, Miss. Romanoff has requested that no-one enter.”  
The AI replies.

Screw this. Clint continues rewiring the door, Tony watching on. He finally gets the door open, heads inside calling for Natasha. She’s not here.

“Friday,” he calls, warning in his tone. “When did Natasha leave?”

No screw that. “Friday, show me.”

Tony looks worried.

A screen appears and they watch Natasha leave her room, head for the stairs and sit on the lower step to call a cab.

“Fuck.”

“Where’d she go?” Tony inquires.

“I don’t know sir. She has not allowed me to track her. She also did not take her phone or any electronics which I can track.”

Clint thinks at least she had enough presence of mind to think what she was doing.

Either that or she’s further gone than he realised.  
“I’m going to go find her.” He announces, feeling pissed.   
Picks up his phone, and walks out.

“Want help?” Tony calls after him.

He doesn’t bother to answer. He knows Natasha has 3 safe houses in New York and assumes she’d go to one, he doesn’t want Tony knowing where they are. He reckons on her not having enough strength to go too far.

.

He checks the one in Greenwich Village first.  
Lock picks the door. Nothing. No one. He’s feeling desperate, and he’s only just started. He tries to ground himself. Rubbing his hands together and taking a deep breath, he moves on.

.

He heads into Tribeca, walks through Washington Market Park towards the music studio. Her apartment is nondescript, in the middle of the tower; climbing the stairs he feels himself loosing breath.

What if she’s not there?

What if, after all of this; she’s done something stupid or..  
He stops in his tracks. Unable to move. She wouldn’t, things aren’t that bad. They’re not like the last time.. 

Right? He hasn’t been paying close enough attention, hasn’t asked the hard questions.

He gulps down some breaths.

He needs to sit on the stairs.

Head between his legs.

What kind of partner is he?  
He feels light headed.  
Shit.

.

He’s not too sure how long he sits til he has enough brain space to ground himself.

Rocks. Repetitive movements. They remind him. Breathe.

Breathe. Clench his fists.

Breathe. Let go.

Breathe. Rub his face.

Breathe.

Repeat.

Ok. He can do this.

Find Natasha.

He stands and holds onto the rail.

Checks the next apartment. Opens the door and finds no one home.

Two down. One to go.


End file.
